Party represented a massive act of civil disobedience.
We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in Germany was
“legal” and everything the Hungarian freedom fighters did in Hungary
was “illegal.” It was “illegal” to aid and comfort a Jew in Hitler’s
Germany. Even so, I am sure that, had I lived in Germany at the time, I
would have aided and comforted my Jewish brothers. If today I lived in a
Communist country where certain principles dear to the Christian faith
are suppressed, I would openly advocate disobeying that country’s
antireligious laws.
I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish
brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been
gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the
regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride
toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Councilor or the Ku Klux
Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to
justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a
positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I
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agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your
methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the
timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of
time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more
convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is
more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will.
Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order
exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fail in this
purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow
of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand
that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition
from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively
accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which
all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality.
Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators
of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is
already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt
with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but
must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and
light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates,
to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it
can be cured.
In your statement you assert that our actions, even though peaceful, must
be condemned because they precipitate violence. But is this a logical
assertion? Isn’t this like condemning a robbed man because his
possession of money precipitated the evil act of robbery? Isn’t this like
condemning Socrates because his unswerving commitment to truth and
his philosophical inquiries precipitated the act by the misguided populace
in which they made him drink hemlock? Isn’t this like condemning Jesus
because his unique God consciousness and never ceasing devotion to
God’s will precipitated the evil act of crucifixion? We must come to see
that, as the federal courts have consistently affirmed, it is wrong to urge
an individual to cease his efforts to gain his basic constitutional rights
because the quest may precipitate violence. Society must protect the
robbed and punish the robber. I had also hoped that the white moderate
would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for
freedom. I have just received a letter from a white brother in Texas. He
writes: “All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal
rights eventually, but it is possible that you are in too great a religious
hurry. It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish
what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth.” Such an
attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely
irrational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will
inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used
either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the
people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the
people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely
for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling
silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of
inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co
workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an
ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the
knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to
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make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national
elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our
national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of
human dignity.
You speak of our activity in Birmingham as extreme. At first I was rather
disappointed that fellow clergymen would see my nonviolent efforts as
those of an extremist. I began thinking about the fact that I stand in the
middle of two opposing forces in the Negro community. One is a force of
complacency, made up in part of Negroes who, as a result of long years
of oppression, are so drained of self-respect and a sense of
“somebodiness” that they have adjusted to segregation; and in part of a
few middle-class Negroes who, because of a degree of academic and
economic security and because in some ways they profit by segregation,
have become insensitive to the problems of the masses. The other force is
one of bitterness and hatred, and it comes perilously close to advocating
violence. It is expressed in the various black nationalist groups that are
springing up across the nation, the largest and best known being Elijah
Muhammad’s Muslim movement. Nourished by the Negro’s frustration
over the continued existence of racial discrimination, this movement is
made up of people who have lost faith in America, who have absolutely
repudiated Christianity, and who have concluded that the white man is an
incorrigible “devil.”
I have tried to stand between these two forces, saying that we need
emulate neither the “do nothingism” of the complacent nor the hatred and
despair of the black nationalist. For there is the more excellent way of
love and nonviolent protest. I am grateful to God that, through the
influence of the Negro church, the way of nonviolence became an
integral part of our struggle. If this philosophy had not emerged, by now
many streets of the South would, I am convinced, be flowing with blood.
And I am further convinced that if our white brothers dismiss as “rabble
rousers” and “outside agitators” those of us who employ nonviolent
direct action, and if they refuse to support our nonviolent efforts, millions
of Negroes will, out of frustration and despair, seek solace and security in
black nationalist ideologies--a development that would inevitably lead to
a frightening racial nightmare.
Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever. The yearning for
freedom eventually manifests itself, and that is what has happened to the
American Negro. Something within has reminded him of his birthright of
freedom, and something without has reminded him that it can be gained.
Consciously or unconsciously, he has been caught up by the Zeitgeist,
and with his black brothers of Africa and his brown and yellow brothers
of Asia, South America and the Caribbean, the United States Negro is
moving with a sense of great urgency toward the promised land of racial
justice. If one recognizes this vital urge that has engulfed the Negro
community, one should readily understand why public demonstrations
are taking place. The Negro has many pent up resentments and latent
frustrations, and he must release them. So let him march; let him make
prayer pilgrimages to the city hall; let him go on freedom rides -and try
to understand why he must do so. If his repressed emotions are not
released in nonviolent ways, they will seek expression through violence;
this is not a threat but a fact of history. So I have not said to my people:
“Get rid of your discontent.” Rather, I have tried to say that this normal
and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of
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nonviolent direct action. And now this approach is being termed
extremist. But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as
an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a
measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for
love: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them
that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and
persecute you.” Was not Amos an extremist for justice: “Let justice roll
down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.” Was
not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel: “I bear in my body the
marks of the Lord Jesus.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist: “Here I
stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God.” And John Bunyan: “I will
stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my
conscience.” And Abraham Lincoln: “This nation cannot survive half
slave and half free.” And Thomas Jefferson: “We hold these truths to be
self evident, that all men are created equal . . .” So the question is not
whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be.
Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the
preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? In that dramatic
scene on Calvary’s hill three men were crucified. We must never forget
that all three were crucified for the same crime--the crime of extremism.
Two were extremists for immorality, and thus fell below their
environment. The other, Jesus Christ, was an extremist for love, truth and
goodness, and thereby rose above his environment. Perhaps the South,
the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.
I had hoped that the white moderate would see this need. Perhaps I was
too optimistic; perhaps I expected too much. I suppose I should have
realized that few members of the oppressor race can understand the deep
groans and passionate yearnings of the oppressed race, and still fewer
have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong,
persistent and determined action. I am thankful, however, that some of
our white brothers in the South have grasped the meaning of this social
revolution and committed themselves to it. They are still all too few in
quantity, but they are big in quality. Some -such as Ralph McGill, Lillian
Smith, Harry Golden, James McBride Dabbs, Ann Braden and Sarah
Patton Boyle--have written about our struggle in eloquent and prophetic
terms. Others have marched with us down nameless streets of the South.
They have languished in filthy, roach infested jails, suffering the abuse
and brutality of policemen who view them as “dirty nigger-lovers.”
Unlike so many of their moderate brothers and sisters, they have
recognized the urgency of the moment and sensed the need for powerful
“action” antidotes to combat the disease of segregation. Let me take note
of my other major disappointment. I have been so greatly disappointed
with the white church and its leadership. Of course, there are some
notable exceptions. I am not unmindful of the fact that each of you has
taken some significant stands on this issue. I commend you, Reverend
Stallings, for your Christian stand on this past Sunday, in welcoming
Negroes to your worship service on a nonsegregated basis. I commend
the Catholic leaders of this state for integrating Spring Hill College
several years ago.
But despite these notable exceptions, I must honestly reiterate that I have
been disappointed with the church. I do not say this as one of those
negative critics who can always find something wrong with the church. I
say this as a minister of the gospel, who loves the church; who was
49
nurtured in its bosom; who has been sustained by its spiritual blessings
and who will remain true to it as long as the cord of life shall lengthen.
When I was suddenly catapulted into the leadership of the bus protest in
Montgomery, Alabama, a few years ago, I felt we would be supported by
the white church. I felt that the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the
South would be among our strongest allies. Instead, some have been
outright opponents, refusing to understand the freedom movement and
misrepresenting its leaders; all too many others have been more cautious
than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing
security of stained glass windows.
In spite of my shattered dreams, I came to Birmingham with the hope
that the white religious leadership of this community would see the
justice of our cause and, with deep moral concern, would serve as the
channel through which our just grievances could reach the power
structure. I had hoped that each of you would understand. But again I
have been disappointed.
I have heard numerous southern religious leaders admonish their
worshipers to comply with a desegregation decision because it is the law,
but I have longed to hear white ministers declare: “Follow this decree
because integration is morally right and because the Negro is your
brother.” In the midst of blatant injustices inflicted upon the Negro, I
have watched white churchmen stand on the sideline and mouth pious
irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities. In the midst of a mighty
struggle to rid our nation of racial and economic injustice, I have heard
many ministers say: “Those are social issues, with which the gospel has
no real concern.” And I have watched many churches commit themselves
to a completely other worldly religion which makes a strange, un-Biblical
distinction between body and soul, between the sacred and the secular.
I have traveled the length and breadth of Alabama, Mississippi and all the
other southern states. On sweltering summer days and crisp autumn
mornings I have looked at the South’s beautiful churches with their lofty
spires pointing heavenward. I have beheld the impressive outlines of her
massive religious education buildings. Over and over I have found
myself asking: “What kind of people worship here? Who is their God?
Where were their voices when the lips of Governor Barnett dripped with
words of interposition and nullification? Where were they when
Governor Wallace gave a clarion call for defiance and hatred? Where
were their voices of support when bruised and weary Negro men and
women decided to rise from the dark dungeons of complacency to the
bright hills of creative protest?”
Yes, these questions are still in my mind. In deep disappointment I have
wept over the laxity of the church. But be assured that my tears have
been tears of love. There can be no deep disappointment where there is
not deep love. Yes, I love the church. How could I do otherwise? I am in
the rather unique position of being the son, the grandson and the great
grandson of preachers. Yes, I see the church as the body of Christ. But,
oh! How we have blemished and scarred that body through social neglect
and through fear of being nonconformists.
There was a time when the church was very powerful--in the time when
the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed worthy to suffer for what
they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer
that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a
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thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early
Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and
immediately sought to convict the Christians for being “disturbers of the
peace” and “outside agitators.”‘ But the Christians pressed on, in the
conviction that they were “a colony of heaven,” called to obey God rather
than man. Small in number, they were big in commitment. They were too
God-intoxicated to be “astronomically intimidated.” By their effort and
example they brought an end to such ancient evils as infanticide and
gladiatorial contests. Things are different now. So often the
contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain
sound. So often it is an archdefender of the status quo. Far from being
disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the
average community is consoled by the church’s silent--and often even
vocal--sanction of things as they are.
But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If today’s
church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will
lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an
irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. Every
day I meet young people whose disappointment with the church has
turned into outright disgust.
Perhaps I have once again been too optimistic. Is organized religion too
inextricably bound to the status quo to save our nation and the world?
Perhaps I must turn my faith to the inner spiritual church, the church
within the church, as the true ekklesia and the hope of the world. But
again I am thankful to God that some noble souls from the ranks of
organized religion have broken loose from the paralyzing chains of
conformity and joined us as active partners in the struggle for freedom.
They have left their secure congregations and walked the streets of
Albany, Georgia, with us. They have gone down the highways of the
South on tortuous rides for freedom. Yes, they have gone to jail with us.
Some have been dismissed from their churches, have lost the support of
their bishops and fellow ministers. But they have acted in the faith that
right defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. Their witness has been the
spiritual salt that has preserved the true meaning of the gospel in these
troubled times. They have carved a tunnel of hope through the dark
mountain of disappointment. I hope the church as a whole will meet the
challenge of this decisive hour. But even if the church does not come to
the aid of justice, I have no despair about the future. I have no fear about
the outcome of our struggle in Birmingham, even if our motives are at
present misunderstood. We will reach the goal of freedom in
Birmingham and all over the nation, because the goal of America is
freedom. Abused and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up
with America’s destiny. Before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we were
here. Before the pen of Jefferson etched the majestic words of the
Declaration of Independence across the pages of history, we were here.
For more than two centuries our forebears labored in this country without
wages; they made cotton king; they built the homes of their masters
while suffering gross injustice and shameful humiliation -and yet out of a
bottomless vitality they continued to thrive and develop. If the
inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we
now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom because the sacred
heritage of our nation and the eternal will of God are embodied in our
echoing demands. Before closing I feel impelled to mention one other
point in your statement that has troubled me profoundly. You warmly
commended the Birmingham police force for keeping “order” and
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“preventing violence.” I doubt that you would have so warmly
commended the police force if you had seen its dogs sinking their teeth
into unarmed, nonviolent Negroes. I doubt that you would so quickly
commend the policemen if you were to observe their ugly and inhumane
treatment of Negroes here in the city jail; if you were to watch them push
and curse old Negro women and young Negro girls; if you were to see
them slap and kick old Negro men and young boys; if you were to
observe them, as they did on two occasions, refuse to give us food
because we wanted to sing our grace together. I cannot join you in your
praise of the Birmingham police department.
It is true that the police have exercised a degree of discipline in handling
the demonstrators. In this sense they have conducted themselves rather
“nonviolently” in public. But for what purpose? To preserve the evil
system of segregation. Over the past few years I have consistently
preached that nonviolence demands that the means we use must be as
pure as the ends we seek. I have tried to make clear that it is wrong to use
immoral means to attain moral ends. But now I must affirm that it is just
as wrong, or perhaps even more so, to use moral means to preserve
immoral ends. Perhaps Mr. Connor and his policemen have been rather
nonviolent in public, as was Chief Pritchett in Albany, Georgia, but they
have used the moral means of nonviolence to maintain the immoral end
of racial injustice. As T. S. Eliot has said: “The last temptation is the
greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.”
I wish you had commended the Negro sit inners and demonstrators of
Birmingham for their sublime courage, their willingness to suffer and
their amazing discipline in the midst of great provocation. One day the
South will recognize its real heroes. They will be the James Merediths,
with the noble sense of purpose that enables them to face jeering and
hostile mobs, and with the agonizing loneliness that characterizes the life
of the pioneer. They will be old, oppressed, battered Negro women,
symbolized in a seventy two year old woman in Montgomery, Alabama,
who rose up with a sense of dignity and with her people decided not to
ride segregated buses, and who responded with ungrammatical
profundity to one who inquired about her weariness: “My feets is tired,
but my soul is at rest.” They will be the young high school and college
students, the young ministers of the gospel and a host of their elders,
courageously and nonviolently sitting in at lunch counters and willingly
going to jail for conscience’ sake. One day the South will know that
when these disinherited children of God sat down at lunch counters, they
were in reality standing up for what is best in the American dream and
for the most sacred values in our Judaeo Christian heritage, thereby
bringing our nation back to those great wells of democracy which were
dug deep by the founding fathers in their formulation of the Constitution
and the Declaration of Independence.
Never before have I written so long a letter. I’m afraid it is much too long
to take your precious time. I can assure you that it would have been much
shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else can
one do when he is alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters,
think long thoughts and pray long prayers?
If I have said anything in this letter that overstates the truth and indicates
an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to forgive me. If I have said
anything that understates the truth and indicates my having a patience
that allows me to settle for anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to
forgive me.
I hope this letter finds you strong in the faith. I also hope that
circumstances will soon make it possible for me to meet each of you, not
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as an integrationist or a civil-rights leader but as a fellow clergyman and
a Christian brother. Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial
prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will
be lifted from our fear drenched communities, and in some not too distant
tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our
great nation with all their scintillating beauty.
Yours for the cause of Peace and Brotherhood,
Martin Luther King, Jr.
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